The noose around Fortress Maximus' neck tightens. Will the Decepticon 2nd fleet led by mighty Scorponok finally subjugate their old nemesis? And if they do, what will be the fate of the Autobot resistance?

The area of space that Fortress Maximus had found himself assigned to oversee recently had been quiet. Exceedingly too quiet. In his experience, that usually meant that the Decepticons had simply tried a more subtle approach to accomplishing their latest set of plans. Scorponok certainly had a history of switching tactics on him, sometimes mid-scheme. It was time to have a few of his more trusted regional officers start doing some check-ins with the nearby outposts.

When a location was under siege by Decepticons, he normally received up-to-the-astrosecond updates--on the rare occasions that he couldn't find a way to assist directly. It was the research outposts that were more problematic and typically went quiet for longer than he'd like, owing to the fact that they tended to stay out of Decepticon crosshairs. The large Autobot allowed for a certain degree of that, but it had been too long since the planetary research outposts on Nebulos had transmitted anything of substance to Autobot Command. Prime would likely be wanting an update soon as well, and Max wanted to be able to provide him with something relevant. Granted, he hadn't heard anything from the Earth-bound front in a while either, but it was hardly like Optimus Prime was obligated to check in with him. With Earth having been one of the more contentious fronts of their war with the Decepticons in recent memory, he just figured he would have heard something more. He wasn't happy with being so trusted sometimes, but Fortress Maximus was hardly "happy-go-lucky", by anyone's standards. His appearance on the comm viewscreen would probably be even more rigid than normal.

>>"Commander Scattershot, something has come to my attention and I need a good set of optics to go and check it out for me."<<

Maximus reached over and submitted the core planetary file that he had received from the researchers some time ago. The viewscreen switched to a series of images of a lush, blue-green planet and images of the natives who inhabited it.

>>"The Autobots have set up a series of research and development outposts on Nebulos. For quite a while now, we had been receiving, I guess you'd say 'sporadic' updates from the teams there about their progress and findings. I've come to realize that we received our last update several orns back. That isn't really atypical from this group, but they've been quiet now a little longer than I'm comfortable with. I need you and your team to do a check-in and then get me a tangible update. The brainmechs will likely appreciate the assistance that you and your team can render. Questions?"<<

Nothing complicated dwelled in Fortress Maximus' little account; even the most dim-witted Autobot would have been able to comprehend its meaning. Certainly, there were a few possibilities attached to it, but they did not present any true impediment to one's assumptions. Whatever the cause for their prolonged silence was, Scattershot believed it was something simple. Perhaps a massive storm had past over their outposts, damaging the communications equipment—or they had become so immersed in their research that the thought of transmitting the next update had not entered their processors.

Your typical stylus neck was an exceedingly enthusiastic individual, after all. And once he had discovered something...well, neglect, in one form or another, used its methods to settle in without notice.

It didn't matter. Scattershot and his team would unveil the mystery on Nebulos, supplying Fortress Maximus with at least a fragment of hope—or some positive feeling. It wasn't much, but it had to do something to improve his disposition. Scattershot would have liked to offer his suggestions to Maximus, but he possessed no dialogue eloquent enough for the Autobot Leader to take into consideration. That, and he had yet to come to terms with Maximus' mighty yet pacifistic nature.

That absurd contradiction made Scattershot's cranial unit want to explode.

“No questions. We'll move out at once." Saluting his leader, Scattershot cut the transmission, the view screen returning to its dark reflective surface.

He directed his gaze towards Lightspeed, the Farstar's main pilot. “Set a course for the planet Nebulos. As of right now, that's our destination." Then Nosecone, who was seated at the communication station. “I want you to monitor the channels closely, Nosecone. As we approach it, we may pick up a transmission or even a distress signal from them."

Scattershot opened a comm-channel to Strafe. >>”Strafe, drop whatever you're doing and prepare the armoury. Make sure all weapons are operational and ammunition is plentiful. Tell Afterburner to get off his aft and give you an actuator. I want it all ready within the cycle, you hear?"<<

It felt great to be finally taking action again. Scattershot could have sworn his limbs were threatening to drop off, due to all the inactivity.

>>”Yes, sir! So what are we doing? And where are we going, if I may ask?"<<

As Scattershot indicated his understanding of the orders at hand and the screen subsequently went dark, Maximus felt the tension in his joints ease a little. He had never been a ‘Bot to accommodate loose ends. He wasn’t anal retentive to the point of occasional annoyance like Prowl was sometimes known to be, but he liked to keep information and resources flowing in to and out of whatever front of the Autobot/Decepticon war he was assigned to serve under. Ideally this would help grease a few skids that had started to rust out there on Nebulos.

“What’s next on my agenda, Teletran?" Maximus asked, stretching out a little in the massively oversized steel seat he currently occupied. It was just him and the computer for the next orn; he’d given all but the most critical functionary crewmechs some extended downtime. They had earned it after that last prison transfer.

"STEELHAVEN DIAGNOSTIC REVIEW FOLLOWED BY CREW PERFORMANCE EVALUATIONS THAT ARE DUE FOR REVIEW AND SUBMISSION TO AUTOBOT COMMAND IN: 2.5 ORNS."

“That soon, eh? Thanks," Maximus said, having come to enjoy responding to and personifying the version of Autobot computing that had been installed on his ship. As usual, it didn’t respond back.

Grinning, the powerful Autobot turned his attention to something that wouldn’t require any exercise of his formidable strength—the Steelhaven’s maintenance records. Other Autobots in his station would likely be chafing under the lack of frontline warfare that Maximus’ current role afforded him. He and Prime always had something of an understanding of their mutual philosophies on war. Maximus had long recognized its necessity—begrudgingly in some instances. And as far as he knew, Prime had long recognized Maximus’ desire to avoid it except when the situation truly called for it. Such situations were subjective, but Maximus trusted Prime’s judgment. He hadn’t disappointed him yet. Until then...